Felicity

The first CHS game kicked off, and already the Crusaders' team were kicking butt. They scored two goals in the first five minutes. Because of course they did. This didn't diminish the uproarious amount of cheer and praise that the girls' older siblings and their friends gave for the rest of the match. The entire stand of bleachers was a cacophonous wave of enthusiasm and support—with Applejack and Pinkie Pie hollering the loudest. Rainbow Dash sprinted up and down the sidelines, shouting encouragement and tiny jabs to her prized athletes. The air over the fields was positively electric.

Flash Sentry sat dull and dumb through most of it. He wasn't sour over the fact that everyone else appeared to be enjoying themselves. He simply didn't feel much one way or another. A part of him was grateful—he supposed—that Sunset and Twilight were having so much fun. But for the most part he lingered on his lonesome, far and away on the barest fringes of the spectator seating, doing his best not to pollute the waters with his dispassionate malaise.

The match was really, truly no contest. Everyone who came to support CHS had countless reasons to smile. Flash could barely muster up a smirk. The entire time, he couldn't stop thinking about Scootaloo. About how she had struggled so hard and for so long with complications concerning bone marrow. He hadn't been around to witness it, but from what he learned—she had been battling for almost the full extent of his "absence." In the end, she had ultimately perservered, and now she had even overcome the unthinkable losses she had suffered to come out on top as an inspiring athlete and a supportive friend to her closest companions.

All that Flash went through—or so little that he had gone through—seemed so paltry and harmless in comparison. Who was he to be such an abhorrent stick in the mud while true champions like Scootaloo leapt hurdles over their castrophes and kept on running for the golden horizon?

And then when the likes of Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle show up—they seem so non-plussed at Flash Sentry's situation. If only he could see through their eyes—without being so sorry over himself—at just how secure and better off he was... in spite of everything. In spite of what he felt he lost, but still couldn't compare to the likes of Scootaloo. Or who knows how many others in this world truly suffered without a hope in sight, but still perservered?

So it was—in very little time and without and planning it—that Flash endured the vicious cycle yet again. His self-pity morphed back into guilt. He couldn't stop thinking about all the opportunities Sunset and Twilight had given him to come out of his shell and make something out of his life and see the sunlight or reconnect with old friends.

But he kept pushing back against them. Just as he kept pushing back against himself. Why? Why did he insist on wasting away on a self-imposed prison? If he thought hard about it, what happened to him wasn't that terrible. It could have been worse. He could have been suffering from cancer or being completely ostracized by friends as well as family. But, the fact of the matter was, he wasn't alone. Others had taken him in. Grace had been extended—a grace he didn't deserve. And all he gave back as a show of thanks was apathy. A cold shoulder. Silence and perpetual "emo-kid" gloominess. He should have been better than that. He was an adult, for Christ's sake.

But he barely felt like one. Scarcely resembled one. And when the last sighs of the day were all exhausted, Flash was reminded of one consistently numbing fact:

He never asked for any of this.

So why did he still feel so guilty?

The first match ended. There was no rest for the weary—and CHS found themselves up against another team from the next school district over. It was grueling to play two matches back to back, but somehow Flash didn't doubt for a second that Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and their teammates would endure. Once the kickoff began, he skulked off... resuming his pacing in a solitary slump. Nobody said anything. Either they had given up on trying to corall him to one spot or they simply stopped caring. Perhaps both. In any case, it was fine by Flash. He thought the most while on the move—for better or for worse.

Perhaps it was a good thing that he had been forced to endure a day of sunlight after all. He rarely allowed himself moments like this anymore: of being able to walk around, to ponder, to see other human beings living lives he'd never comprehend but nevertheless have a chance to reflect on.

This was meant to be the most crucial years of his life. He was barely past twenty. College beckoned, and Flash still had to get his career in order. The others had long moved on without him. Rarity had gotten an early start in owning and running her own fashion boutique. Pinkie Pie worked at her foster parents' bakery while Applejack inherited the family farm. Rainbow Dash was head soccer coach at CHS; Fluttershy managed the local humane society. Even his roommates were busy people: Twilight Sparkle interned at a science lab while Sunset Shimmer worked with the Princess of Equestria from beyond the portal to study magical phenomena on their side of the plane. There were even days when it felt like Spike had more important things to do than Flash.

But as for Mr. Sentry himself... he had made no attempts to pick up the pieces of his life. He may not have been a telepath like Sunset, but he knew—he somehow knew that she was getting tired of his lazy, self-loathing bullshit. How many months in a row did he spend holed up in his room with the lights out, bingeing streaming services and wishing that yesterday would come back to him? And it's not like he didn't have opportunities to apply himself. Even if it was barely a year since the blackout ended, he could have already started looking into scholarships and trying to aim his life down a valuable career. More than once, the girls tried sweet-talking him into picking up the guitar again and joining some band or attempting to perform somewhere. But Flash knew that they were simply trying to break the ice. Their smiles were sincere, but their aim wasn't. His hopelessness was impenetrable, and each time they tried dragging him back to the surface, his heart pained for their patient sacrifice.

Flash felt like such a pestilential virus in that apartment. He wasn't there for when Sunset Shimmer and Twilight Sparkle finally got together. In many ways, he wish he was—for he truly was proud of them and would have loved to show his support. By this time, however, if he gave them words of encouragement, it would only come across as patronizing. He had already become too set in his depressive ways, and all the friends he once knew couldn't see past his melancholy. There were times when he wished he could salvage things, but in the end he was... comfortable with the distance that had been wedged between them and him. It gave him breathing room... for weathering the sheer patheticness of who he was and how empty his future looked.

And in the back of his head there was this gnawing sensation that he couldn't explain to anyone even if he wanted to. Despite the bad luck that he had endured and all of the glorious moments in life he had missed without asking for it...

He still felt that it was all his fault. It would certainly help to understand it all... if he could remember anything.

But nobody could help him with that. So there he was—and there he looped—around and around in a vicious cycle. And the most he could accomplish in life so far was to be poor Sunset's and Twilight's ball and chain.

It was around the fifth lethargic stroll around the fields that he passed by the bleachers again—and in so doing he came within earshot of his two roommates and their closest friends. The second match was also a no-contest scenario for the CHS' girls' victory. So much of the cheering had died down, save for a few whistles and hoots every now and then. Instead, the older siblings and their companions took the opportunity to catch up with one another. Flash was passing behind the bleachers, so nobody took notice of him. Even Sunset—for all her telepathic skill—appeared distracted when once again in the presence of beloved friends. Thus, Flash was able to listen in a bit... for what it was worth.

"To be honest, we're no closer to figuring out a solution than we were four years ago right after the spell struck," Sunset could be heard saying. "You have to remember. Flash took the full brunt of it. The rest of the magic channeled into the spell was... greatly diminished before impacting the others. That's why they recovered so quickly."

"And they didn't de-age or nothin'," Applejack said. "Right?"

"Erm. No. But remember, Applejack—Flash didn't get any younger. It might look a bit like that, but..."

"Flashie just got all teeny-tiny!" Pinkie Pie barked. "And cuddable too!"

"Trust me," Twilight Sparkle could be heard. "Flash Sentry does not cuddle."

"Can't say that I blame the feller," Applejack said. "It's an awful lot to go through! And to be down for the count for four years on top of that?! Heck—I once woke up from an apple cider binge and only two days had flown by! Two days! Y'know how much farm work I missed out on in that time period?! It was devastatin'! I can't even begin to imagine what losin' four years would do to a person!"

"If that happened to me," Fluttershy murmured. "I wouldn't know what to do with myself. It's no wonder that Flash is taking so long to recover."

"Still, y'all are doin' somethin' mighty fine, lettin' him share a room'n'such," Applejack said. "I know I've thrown it out there before, but there're plenty of sleepin' spots for guests in the ol' farmhouse. Y'know... uhm... if it gets a bit too overbearin'..."

"Flash is our friend, Applejack. Thanks for the offer, but I'm not about to treat the matter like it's a burden."

"I'm just sayin'..."

"You should take Applejack on her offer, Sunny-bun!" Pinkie squeaked. "I mean... heck... I love Flashie just as much as the next girl, but talk about the cream of the sad-sack crop!"

"Pinkie..."

"Well?! Am I wrong?!"

"Flash just..." Twilight exhaled long and hard. "...needs time."

"Like how much time?"

"More time, I guess."

"Well, if you ask me, fate's not been too entirely cruel to our beloved Flash," Rarity's voice said melodically. "Have you taken a good look at that face? Such bright blue eyes! Such shiny hair! Even those luscious lashes! Yes yes—four years missed is quite the travesty, but look at who's emerged on the other side! Why—I daresay in some ways I envy Flash! She's become quite the dazzling little model! I bet even my sister would be jealous—"

"Rarity!" Fluttershyg asped.

"What??"

"You just misgendered him again!" Fluttershy's voice took on a curiously heated tone. "You did this the last time we talked about Flash!"

"I'm sorry, darlings! It's just she—he is so utterly adorable nowadays! Surely I can't be the only woman who realizes this?"

"Boys can be adorable too, Rarity!" Pinkie Pie said.

"Pinkie Pie, he's not a boy," Sunset droned. "He's twenty-two."

"... ... ...men can be adorable too!"

"Unghhhh..." Flash could see Sunset rubbing her head through the bleacher seats below.

"Yes yes..." Rarity purred. "But adorable women do it better~"

"Listen, that's not the point," Twilight insisted. Flash could sense her resting a hand on her stressed girlfriend's shoulder. "What matters is..." Another sigh. "Flash is unhappy with what that magic spell did to him ages ago. And—from the looks of it—nothing appears to be changing... and nothing can be changed. For all of my scientific labwork studies and for all of Sunset Shimmer's support from the Princess in Equestria, we... we really just don't know how to help him!"

"No offense to you and Sunset, Twilight, but maybe Flash just needs... a bit more variety in where he gets his help," Fluttershy said.

"You mean like from you?" Rarity giggled lightly. "You'd just want to hug and cuddle her nonstop—er—him."

Fluttershy ignored that last statement. "I was thinking someone like Rainbow Dash." All heads turned towards their beloved coach at a distance. "She's the most inspirational woman I know. She knows how to pull anyone from the pits. I mean—look at what good she's done for Scootaloo!"

"The best person who helped Scootaloo was Scootaloo," Twilight said. "And not to diminish what she's gone through, but she wasn't zapped with an irreversible magic spell..."

"Well, Rainbow's got one thing going for her!" Pinkie piped up. "She's the shortest of the bunch!"

Silence.

"Meaning, she's a lot closer to Flashie's level—"

"We get it, Pinkie," Sunset groaned. "And it wasn't funny the first time."

"Hrmmfff..." Pinkie slumped with a pout. "Well, anybody else got any bright ideas?"

"No. We really don't." Twilight leaned into her girlfriend, her voice taking on a melancholic tone. "And... to be real with you girls...? I'm starting to get worried about his future..."

The bleachers had taken on a solemn silence at this point, a long and far cry from the enthusiastic cheer and applause that had accompanied the soccer matches just minutes previous. Even without trying, Flash had somehow managed to sour an entire get-together. It soon got quiet enough that the resident telepath could reach out and sense eavesdropping strangers with her mind. But by the time she could—however—Flash had long gone. He had practically jogged away from the scene. It was the only effort he could concentrate on to keep himself from crying.